Enocra Woodland

Pine, spruce and firs alike...
Dense coniferous forests cover the woodlands, with clearings, paths and the occasional wildberry shrub throughout. Pine, spruce and fir make up much of the forest in the east, with the forest becoming swampier in the west towards Mecor Valley. In the west, cypress trees dominate, with fallen trees creating bridges across and throughout the stillwaters.

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AS iF TO FLY
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Freedom and knowledge were the only two things that Alice had to her name. The automaton hardly even had beauty to rest on. It was something that she’d turned away from what seemed like not so long ago. Vanity wasn’t proper when you didn’t have anything to be proud of. No, the girl has strong shoulders and a brilliant outlook on things—it’s all she can hope for. The female seems to have been threaded through the body of a male… left over parts, spares and things from times gone by. That’s what she is heart and soul.

Maybe she became a gypsy to find herself and to figure out what she wanted. It was the greyed creature’s greatest fear in life that she die without knowing who she was. She’s a gypsy maiden now, but maybe that wouldn’t be the case if she resembled her sisters. Maybe so many things would be the case if she was more like them… the creature didn’t know. Alice occasionally wishes she wasn’t such an enigma. It’s worse, maybe, to be a pariah. That’s her issue, she supposes, above all. There’s a problem and a wall up between her and others. There are things that she doesn’t want to hold on but does, things she holds onto but doesn’t want to. Useless things… all of them.

“Things could be better. Things could be worse. I’m not going to screw around with it.” The woman’s tail swings loosely behind her body, a shrug in her shoulders and a hollow rounding to her ribcage. The creature doesn’t know where to go from here. It’s strange to be alone with this man. On one paw she can count the number of times before then that she’s been with him unsupervised. On one paw she can count the number of times she’s been alone with anyone other than herself in the last… age. The world around them goes through seasons.

“I do suppose happiness is relative.” The clockwork angel’s posture shifts, settles slightly as she takes stock of a log half sunk in the water. It had once been a great tree, she realizes now. Now the thing is covered in moss and swamp water, attracting the clinging of mosses and dirt and all sorts of other green things. A moment later the woman, with her strong shoulders and well set posture, springs upon the rounded platform. It’s with a moment of shaking she gains herself a footing and stares back down to Hawthorn.

“I’m glad you do… sometimes it’s easy to feel out of place.” Alice’s admission is one that comes with a certain degree of guilt. “You’ve been nothing but good to me and to all of us. I don’t have a reason to, I’ve cast myself away from them… but still.” It’s a difficult admission for the clockwork angel to make, but she feels lighter once she has. Some things are easier once they’re in the open and off one’s chest. Alice’s eyes are soft on the cream creature’s face. She just wants for someone to know and to maybe… just maybe… get it. She’s different. The automaton isn’t like the rest.

ALiCE
hound’s
gypsy | seven | unattached




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